


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by Sxtyr



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Brief homophobia, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9204953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sxtyr/pseuds/Sxtyr
Summary: Michael Munroe lives pretty much the hard life of a high school student. He lives alone except for occasional visits from an abusive father that knows all too well about the sexual preference of his son and heavily disapproves. Still, this does nothing to stop Mike from sighing at the sight of Christopher Fleiss, track team captain and object of his seemingly hopeless affections. This story is going to go deep into Mike questioning himself and struggling with the impoverished life his father has cursed him with. It will get very dark at some points. May update tags as story goes along.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So Chris's last name in this is going to be Fleiss as the VA for Chris has the last name Fleiss so why not, right? Anyways, there isn't anything too bad in this chapter except for some underage drinking but beyond that enjoy and leave comments!!!!

A weathered hand brushed on the dinged white surface before tugging at the edge, needing at least two good pulls before the door opened and cast a dim, almost sickly light on the figure standing before it. Almost habitually, the hand brushed over the empty shelves of the refrigerator before reluctantly grabbing one of the last cans. A door slam shut and he was already headed up the creaking stairs, tugging gently at the tab of the can until the hissing metal sounded and he put the can up to his face, hesitantly sniffing the odor of the liquid inside before shrugging. Expiration date had to be a lie, he figured. Beer probably lasted longer when refrigerated, although he couldn’t honestly think of anyone who wouldn’t refrigerate it. Huh, he would like to meet the kind of person who would do that.

Shrugging at the own images flashing in his mind, Michael Munroe pushed past the strung up bed sheet that served as the door to his room and moved to flop down on his bed, careful to not spill his drink as he simultaneously took out his phone.  No notifications, of course. Still, he had time to spare before he would attempt and eventually give up on his homework so scrolling social media it was. So many of his classmates were posting photos from the weekend and he lazily tapped the little stars or hearts or whatever he needed to in order to show mild recognition of the posts. He didn't really care for it but he had to keep up a good online presence and if that meant liking the post of some random guy or girl and how they felt so happy to have their significant other so be it. Yay, he was obviously so happy for all the couples and how they would put each others names in their profiles, post the dates of when they first started dating only to take it out after their week long relationship ended. It was drama that he hated but at the same time secretly wanted to be a part of, if only it meant he had somebody to call his own.   
Yawning, he pushed himself further into his bed before quickly giving in to the calling of his blankets and slipping beneath them, not bothering to slip out of his clothes. Besides, it was supposed to be a cold night and the extra layers could only be good for him. He curled up on his side, eyes reading over the rantings on how the high school should upgrade the water fountains before he sighed and swiped out of the apps. He didn't need to get dizzy from reading some babble like that because with his luck he would end up agreeing and he didn't need to be in heated debates over fountains.   
Not today, anyways. 

Yawning, he lazily played solitaire for a good hour before he swore himself he was going to go to bed, after posting just one last thing. Something along the line of, 'So blessed to have a family meal!' or some bullshit like that. Yeah, he was pretty good at making it seem like his life was just peachy. Reaching with a hand to pick up the can he had momentarily set down, he took a few swigs of the bitter liquid before he found himself pausing at a new post in his Twitter feed. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary nor was it anything special but the person who tweeted it, the owner of the account, they were a different story. His thumb hovered above the post, almost brushing the small heart sign but at the last moment he withdrew and opted simply to shut the app. He didn’t need to be tempted which was hard considering he already was. Instead he chugged what he could of the remaining alcohol before he was on his back in his bed and squeezing his eyes shut, just trying to imagine it.

It had just been a photo of a beach, incredibly bland when it came to beach photos but he could only try to imagine being there on that beach. His eyes relaxed as he rambled on in his head how warm the sand would be, how good the sun would feel and how… _he_ would be there. So close, their fingers tangling themselves together and he would be happy. He could lean against him, tell him how special he was and how blessed he was to know and to have the other as his own. He could rest his head snugly against the other’s chest and feel his heartbeat and he could fall asleep with him. He could laugh as the other took the lame photo, help him come up with the short ‘#VacationLife’ caption and he could favorite and retweet it and comment about how much he loved the other and it would be normal. _They_ would be normal…

 

 

He had only been an inch away from a kiss when he opened his eyes and was greeted with glaring red haze that slowly cleared to show a plain 8:00am.  
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK.” The profanity spewed from his mouth as he scrambled and rather clumsily fell from his bed, knocking over the can from the previous night and cursing again as the remaining bit of liquid spilled out onto his already well-stained carpet. Shit. Still, he didn’t have the time to worry about it and rather he rushed to throw on a new outfit before he was in the bathroom, gelling his hair as a toothbrush hung from his mouth. Fuck fuck fuck he was so going to be screwed for this. A minute more for the sake of looking slightly decent and he was grabbing his ratty backpack, accidentally ditching his phone as he jumped down the narrow staircase, sliding his hand along the railing for support before landing in a crouch and quite literally taking off running. Thankfully he didn’t have to really lock the door because he had nothing truly worth stealing but also he knew he would get yelled at by a certain someone if he did lock the door. Great. Of all the days for _him_ to stop by for a ‘visit’ this was not one of the better ones.

Thankfully, the pressing issue of being late to school pushed to the forefront of his mind and Mike struggled to keep up a steady running pace as the weight of his backpack jostled around on his back. He lived a good hour walk from the high school but he knew he couldn’t afford to be tardy to his second period. One more tardy and he knew they would be calling his dad and while normally he could expect his dad to forget by the time he saw him, he couldn’t count on that now. Fuck. Why was it always the hardest to wake up from a dream when it was about _him_? Why did it always hurt the most to wake up when he was always so close to just a small kiss or something more intimate but just as climatic? It was a pain, really but it wasn’t the first time and he truly doubted it would be the last.

 

  
He was okay with that...

 

 

He was late, but he could swear it was only by about five seconds. Had it not been for his social standing as the Student Body President and the charming looks that got him what he wanted, Mike was sure he would’ve been facing the pink color of a tardy slip and the cold hand of a punishment further on. Still, he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and after his hasty explanation of how his car broke down and how he had to run to school, he managed to slip past the desks already filled with kids and took his seat towards the middle of the class. He had to; after all, keep up a good social standing while still being able to get away with not always paying attention was such an important part of his life.  
Pathetic.  
He was pathetic, to say the very least. But on the other hand it was all he had to keep up the grand illusion that he, Michael Munroe, was fine.  
Truly, the thought of it all made him want to groan in anguish but he still flashed a charming smile at his peers and for the better part pretended that he knew what the lesson was about, despite also knowing he would be looking up the answers to the homework online and later writing equations on his arms for the test. It was all he could hope to do. He took far longer than any of the other kids to get his work done and even longer to understand the material. He simply didn’t have the time in his life to worry about school and had long since grown frustrated with how the words always seemed to bounce around on the page. No, he wasn’t dyslexic but whenever he looked at his coursework he could feel himself growing nauseous and increasingly exhausted.

So he had given up on trying and instead focused on perfecting his skills of being able to cheat like a pro while still flying low under the radar. Seeing as he was in his senior year of high school he had managed to do pretty well with it, only ever failing one class but that was simply due to the fact he had come down with mono halfway through the semester and ended up missing about a month of school. What fun times that had been, especially considering he had to care for himself the entire time he was sick but beyond that, here he was, alive and seemingly well.  
Time drug on but the only thing that really even slightly captured his attention was the empty desk in front of him, reminding him with just a small pang to his heart that the object of his affection was still off on a vacation somewhere warm and wonderful. He wondered if the other ever thought of him like he did, wondered if he ever moved his hand over as if to pretend he was there to hold it.  
He wondered if Ashley would ever stop talking about how much Chris texted her.  
He rolled his eyes in exasperation and annoyance as he tried to zone out the high pitched sound of the girl to his right just chatting on and on and on about how much she _looovvvvveeedddd_ when Chris sent her snapchats of the beach, whining softly that he never sent her any shirtless photos and giving Mike the brief visualization of what the other possibly did look like under all of those layers he always wore. With Chris being so athletic when it came to track, Mike didn’t doubt he had a fair amount of muscles but he also hoped that part of Chris would be soft to the touch, gentle curves scattered amongst the midst of semi-defined muscles. Sure, he enjoyed a well defined abdomen like any other person but there was something about that blonde haired boy that reminded him of an unimaginable sense of comfort. There was just something about him that made him think of ho—

 

“..... _Miiikkkeee. Psst. Mikkeeee. Mike. Mike. Mike._ ”

 

He broke from his images to the sound of that same annoying voice, feeling his face flush as he realized he hadn’t been on the most modest of tracks when thinking of the absent boy and he slowly slipped a folder onto his lap, moving then to prop his chin up with his hand and give the girl a mildly amused look. He arched a brow, clearly inviting her to say whatever she so _desperately_ needed to say before he felt himself grow cold as she slipped her phone onto his desk.  
It wasn’t that he wasn’t jealous of her and how she had managed to gain the affection of his crush but staring down at text messages filled solely with heart emoticons and smiles made him feel sick to his stomach. Just a small flick of his finger and he could tell that all they did was flirt with one another and with each message from Chris he felt his heart grow colder and his body fall more numb before he found the phone being swept away by Ashley who seemed to be on the brink of ecstatic giggles. Apparently she was sharing the conversation with just about anyone that would even bother to glance her way and most people seemed to be unenthusiastically supportive or giddy alongside her.

Mike was the only one who excused himself from the class to hurl in the school bathroom. Expired alcohol, he learned, stung when coming up. Still, it stung nothing like the hurt of constant realization that the dreams he had and the images he always clung to would never happen to him. It would be Ashley’s hand slipping to thread fingers with Chris and not his. It would be her or some other girl leaning into Chris and laughing with him and he knew he was a fool to have ever believed that something good could come out of having a crush. He didn’t have the time for a crush, despite it being just about the only thing really keeping him going. He _knew_ they flirted and he _knew_ that Chris liked Ashley and he _knew_ they would go to dances together and kiss and do god knows what else.  
Knowing all of this, however, did nothing to ease the pain. He dry heaved again but knew already that nothing would come up. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten an actual meal that wasn’t mooching food from his classmates whenever he could. God, no wonder it would never be him to steal Chris away. He was a mess and there was no way he could ever bring himself to truly believe he deserved the affections of someone with such a gentle heart as the blonde boy. There was also no way he could bring himself to ever stop his feelings. He knew they would only grow worse and he knew the heartache would continue to plague him but those dreams and thoughts kept him warm at night and made him smile when he felt he had no reason to live. Perhaps it wasn’t the best thing in the world but he was trying to pick himself up and make himself to be a better person. He just needed time and he just needed a little support.

He needed to get back to class. Wiping a mass of the thin toilet paper offered across his mouth he flushed the toilet again for safe measure before shakily getting to his feet, gripping at the graffiti-stained walls of the bathroom stall before he managed to collect himself enough to leave. He winced at the sight of his face in the mirror and stepped closer to the counter to examine the puffiness under his eyes, frowning lightly before he flicked at the skin and moved to splash water onto his face. He couldn't feel that it helped any but he could blame the puffiness remaining on drying his face with the shitty paper they provided them with. That always seemed to work every other time he had made off to the bathroom for some reason or another. Either way, it wasn't long until he was back in his seat, zoning the others out and eventually letting his eyes close.

 


End file.
